The Deceiving Bonds: A Memoir of Sherlock Holmes
by Pinkmoon
Summary: Sherlock Holmes writes a memoir of a case that completly changed everything he thought and causes him to met the one girl that might give him more than he ever dreamed of and the brother who could destory it all.
1. The pair

The Deceiving Bonds: A Memoir of Sherlock Holmes 

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Hi. This is my first Sherlock Holmes story so I might get them a little ooc. I haven't read all of the Sherlock Holmes books so there are a few things I'm sure I don't know about like how old they are. So if I write something that doesn't agree with the books, please don't hold it against me. 

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Disclaimer: I don't own the Sherlock Holmes books, characters, ect. but I do own Lilah and Anthorne Davis.

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  They were a strange pair, the Davis siblings. The brother and sister shared a few facial features but other than that, the similarities ended. 

 Anthorne Davis had unkept, somewhat greasy black hair. His eyes were green and were his strangest feature. They were dark and yet, they weren't. They're color seemed to change with his mood. He was tall, almost lanky. He also had soft, almost womanish features. He looked to be thirty-five years old.

 He wore a top hat and traveling clothes. The clothes, a over coat, dress shirt, and trousers, were threadbare and I could almost see skin on his leaf arm.

 His sister, a woman named Lilah Davis, wasn't much better off. Her clothes, a blue-green traveling dress and a blue shawl, where, if not worst, in the same condition as her brother's. She had black hair with a red tint to it. It was pulled back unfashionably and looked greasy also. She had the same green eyes of her brother and her features were more womanish. She was also about five inches shorter than him. She looked to be twenty-seven years old. 

 She also kept glancing around with the air of someone who was either afraid or nervous, I couldn't tell which. That in it's self was strange enough.

  I was very curious as to what information these two had to tell me. There had been a murder a few miles away from Baker Street, where I, Sherlock Holmes, lived with my friend, a doctor named John Watson.

 The Davis' and the murder where all about to change, and disrupt greatly, my life. Only I never knew it. Another strange thing about this case that was strange. For I always depended on observation and observation always gave me an idea of what to except. In this case, my skills of observation failed me when it came to the most important person involved: Lilah.

 And so is the case of The Deceiving Bonds. 

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                                                          Chapter one

 "Well Mr. Holmes, I suppose you're wondering why we're here," Anthorne Davis said. We were in the sitting area with the Davis' sitting on a couch while Watson and I sat on two chairs. 

 I truly hate it when people say 'I suppose you're wondering why we're here.' Of course I wondered. Wasn't that obvious?  But I simply said, "Yes, I do wonder."

 "Well sir, my sister witnessed the murder you sent the word of a reward about," he said. Anthorne had a Yorkish accent and it waved slight as he said this.

 I glanced at Watson. He had something of a horrified look on his face. He must have been wondering, as I was, why a young girl would be out in the streets at such a late hour as midnight, when the murder took place. And what effect did it have on her to witness such a thing.

 "Oh?" I asked, keeping shock off my face, "Why didn't you go to Scotland Yard?"

 "Well sir, I didn't think it would do my sister any good, having to tell it and relive it. She still a bit shocked," he said. "A bit shocked" didn't even the girl sitting next to him. She kept her shawl tightly around her, even though it was warm inside. And her strange eyes hadn't ceased moving. I was now deciding she was looking for the murderer, afraid that he would jump out of the shadows and get her.

 "I see," I said and glanced Lilah Davis over again. "Why have you come forward now?"

 "Well, sir," he said and became anxious, "I thought it was time and since you are the closes to where we live, I decided to come to you."

 I thought otherwise. He probably wanted the 1000-pound reward for whatever purpose and was going to make his sister relive those events. It angered me but there was nothing I could do.

 "Very well. Miss Davis if you're willing…" I said and watched her. She turned her face quickly to mine and only then seemed to realize I had spoken to her. She stared at me for a few minutes with frightened eyes.

 "I'm sorry?" she muttered.

 "Lily dear, tell him what you saw," Anthorne said. Her eyes grew wide and she turned to her brother.

 "But…" she started but her weak voice was overrode by her brother's stronger, Yorkish one.

  "Lily, tell him what you saw," he said firmly. She gave me a side glance and her eyes grew widen even more.

 "I can't…" she whispered and I realized that my emotionless, indifferent stature might be intimating her. So I let my face relax a little and soften into some emotions. 

 "Lily, tell him what you told me," Anthorne said. Lilah Davis grew more distressed. She glanced back at me again, only this time she wasn't frightened. Her expression was begging me to make her brother stop forcing her.

  "Perhaps you should let her speak when she's ready, Mr. Davis," I said. Lilah looked relieved while Anthorne seemed somewhere between anger and relief himself. 

 "Alright then. Should we leave and come back?" he asked.

 "Actually I would like to ask you some questions," I said.

 "Oh?" he asked and became anxious again. 

 "Why was she out at midnight on the night of the murder?" I asked. Anthorne anxiousness became more apparent. What was making him so nervous? I wondered.

 "Oh, she was…was…was running an errand," he said quickly. I then knew he was lying. Lilah looked at him surprised at this but didn't say anything.

 "Is that true?" I asked her. She turned quickly to me. She looked me over and said, "Yes. Our other sister, who's married, was with child and gave birth that night. I was sent to get a doctor. My brother couldn't do it because he was out of town on business with my brother in law. A severant and I were the only two people there to help her."

 That response threw me off. I didn't let it show but it wasn't believable. But she had to be lying, her brother was.

 "Who was the doctor?" Watson asked. Lilah turned to him. 

 "It was a man named Michael Fisher," she said. She seemed to have taken over with the conversation. I looked at Watson. He wasn't showing anything on his face.

 "Do you think you could tell us about what you saw that night," I said. She had grown confident and I thought she might be ready.

 She looked at the floor for a moment and nodded.

  "I was walking and had forgotten to get a horse to take me to the doctor in the excitement. I was walking through an alley and I heard voices. I didn't think anything of it at first until I saw to shapes or shadows. The alley was completely dark so I couldn't see much. I didn't see the faces but I saw a hand moving with something in it at another man. When I saw the other man fall, I realize what happened and ran away. I went to the doctor and told him all that had happened that night. He brought me back on horse with him and when we got back, he gave me some kind of sleeping tonic. I was brought to my room and there I fell asleep," she said. Her eyes never left the floor.

 "Could you describe the murderer?" I asked.

 "He was tall. He actually had Anthore's figure. But that's all I can tell you," she said. 

 "I see. If that's all I suppose you can leave," I said. I stood and went to get the money. It was some I had been saving. That was one thing about me I wasn't going to understand. If I was given money to spend on what ever I wanted, it usually went to my savings. I rarely spent money unless I had to. I suppose it was a good thing when it went to what I did for a living. 

 I got the amount of money and returned. The others where standing by the door. As I handed Anthorne the money, his eyes and the eyes of Lilah lit up. 

 "Thank you sir," he said and left. Lilah followed him. I looked at Watson and asked, "Well, what do you make of them?"

 "They were lying about the doctor, I'm sure of it," he said and went to his records. He looked through them slowly and when he was done, he turned back to me.

 "There isn't a doctor known as Michael Fisher," he said.

 "What else was she lying about then?" I asked. It was mostly to myself. I was sure she told the truth about the murder but what about the sister who was giving birth? I was sure that part was a lie. They were a strange pair, I thought as I sat to think.

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Well tell me what you think.


	2. The homeless

The Deceiving Bonds:

A Memoir of Sherlock Holmes 

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Hi. Thanks for the reviews and suggestions. But I doubt I'll be able to find that book, much less afford it. Therefore I'm going to start presuming things about these characters and because this is fanfiction I figure I can do that. I just wanted to warn you about that.

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 The next day, I was half ready to kill Watson. He had an old friend of his coming to London and this friend wanted to meet me. Watson told him that I would. I, on the other hand, wanted to be left alone so I could think about this case. The man who was murdered was a wealthy landowner named William Thatcher and several people could have a motive for killing him. The first one being revenge for being forced out of their homes for not paying the rent on time. Several of his tenants had become homeless for this reason. 

 But now Watson wanted me to meet this friend of his and ruin my concentration.

 " Watson, why did you tell him I would meet him without asking me first?" I said aggravated. We were now walking to the train station where we would meet this friend.

 " I'm sorry, Holmes but I knew you wouldn't agree to it unless I did that," Watson said. I sighed. He was right but why did he even want me to meet this friend of his?

 "Who is this person anyways?" I asked. I watched him for a moment. His face told me he was trying to decide something. I doubt people realize how much one can read from someone's face. One's face can say that they're lying or hiding something. People's faces take on different expressions when they do those things. But I'm getting astray.

 I kept watching him and he finally said, "It's the brother of William Thatcher."

 "And you're just now telling me this?" I asked with controlled anger. I was going to kill him.

 "Holmes, please don't get mad. I wasn't sure if you would have come if I told you," he said.

 "Of course I would have come," I muttered but my mind had now left him and was thinking again. This could be what I needed. I wanted to know the history of his tenants so I could have an idea of who it could be. 

 There was quiet the rest of the way to the station. When we got there, we had to wait for a few minutes for the train to arrive. When it did we had to wait another few minutes until Watson could identify this Mr. Thatcher. During this time I began to question him.

 " What is this man's name?" I asked.

 "Michael Cross Thatcher," Watson said, still looking into the crowd and avoiding looking at me.

 "Was he and his brother close?"  I asked.

 "When I knew them, they were. But it's been a few years and I don't know if that's changed," Watson said, still not looking at me. 

 "Would there be any reason for it to change?" I asked.

 "Michael has done some traveling from what I've heard and William has lived here and has never left England. And I imagine that they might of have lost contact with each other," he said.  I thought this over and was silent for a few moments. During that time, Watson finally spotted Michael Thatcher and began to walk to him. I followed close behind but my mind was somewhere else.

 I finally realized what was going on and came back to my senses. I then looked the man in front of me over. Michael Thatcher was a fairly tall man with brown hair and blue-green eyes. He wore a brown traveling coat and suit. His face had a squared look, as did most of his features except for his eyes. They were somewhat round and a little large.

 Watson introduced us and we spoke for a few moments of nothing that was of any importance. Soon we were on our way to my house for Michael was going to stay with us for a few hours and then return to his manor in London. 

 We reached Baker Street and were soon in my living room drinking tea and talking. I learned that Michael was an antique dealer and this was the reason for his travels. He had been fairly successful and brought a manor house. He was wealthy enough to be considered first class. He was married and had two children, one boy and the other a girl. Both were in their twenties.  

 I managed to direct the conversation to his brother.  William Thatcher, I learned, had always been charitable or at least in the beinging.  The housing he owned was for those who couldn't afford it anywhere else. But somewhere down the line, that changed.  William Thatcher started to make his tenants pay rent. Soon after, he started to force those who couldn't pay to leave.

 "I don't know why he changed. We lost contact after a while. Say Mr. Holmes aren't you a detective?" he asked.

 "Yes, I suppose you could say that," I said.

 "Are you working on my brother's murder?" he asked. I looked him over before answering. He was looking at the floor and his face had the expression of someone waiting for the worst.

 "Yes," I said and watched him. His position didn't change.

 "What do you know?" he asked. 

 "Not much," I said. He finally looked up and looked at me for a moment. 

 "I'll be willing to help you anyway I can," he said.

 "Thank you for the offer," I said. Silence followed afterward and Michael soon left. An hour after he was gone, I decided to take a walk. I had been doing this often and Watson was use to my leaving without saying anything. 

 It was nighttime and there was a chill in the air. It was late autumn and the nights were becoming cold. I pulled my coat tighter around me and looked at the ground. My thoughts where on the case and Michael Thatcher and I couldn't seem to get it out of my mind. I knew then and there I wasn't going to get any sleep that night.

 The cobblestone streets were smooth and the stones unevenly shaped. The buildings, most of them old, looked like giant shadows that would frighten little children. I don't know why I noticed all of this but I did. 

 My walk soon led me to a part of London that had alleys and near the place where William Thatcher had died. I thought I'd go to where the murder took place and see if I could find anything. 

 I walked through an alley to get there. I was still staring at the ground when I heard voices.

 "Lily, what do you think your doing?"

 "Anthorne, please." 

 It was the Davis's voices. I lifted my head and looked ahead. There they where in the middle of the street. Both had looks of rage on their faces. They wore the same clothes from the day before. They didn't notice me.

 "Lily, we needed that," Anthorne said.

 "So did she," Lilah replied. She was completely different from the woman who sat on my couch yesterday. She was curt and anger seemed to pour from her.

 "Please just stop it. Here have it back," said a female voice. A blond hair, blue-eyed girl stood. She had the greasy, wore appearance of Anthorne and Lilah. She had her hand out and in it was a piece of bread.

 "Keep it, Felicia. Anthorne and I will leave now," Lilah said. She then turned and began to walk away. She had very determined air about her and her fists were to her sides. 

 "Lily girl, we could have saved that bread for tomorrow. Now we'll have to buy more. That money won't last forever," Anthorne said coming up behind her.

 "I know that, Anthorne. I just-Oh my! Mr. Holmes!" she said when she saw me. Anthorne looked up quickly at me. His expression changed from anger to being aghast and Lilah expression went back to the one she wore the day before. 

 "What are you doing here?" Anthorne asked after a while. There was awkwardness about the situation and everyone felt it. The girl they had be talking to, the one Lilah called Felicia, stared at us. She would take steps closer and then stop while the Davis's and I spoke to each other. The closer she got the younger she looked. When I could finally see her clearly, she looked to be 15 years old. What were they doing here? I wonder through I was sure I already knew.

 "I was taking a walk. What are you doing here?" I asked. The two looked at each other. Felicia had just began her stepping closer and then stopping and the taking some more steps. Lilah opened her mouth to answer but Anthorne spoke before she could.

 "We live here," he said and looked at the ground. Lilah's eyes widened. I'd suppose she was going to say something else. Anthorne kept looking at the ground and Lilah stared at him. Felicia stopped walking and was looking at them.

 "What do you mean?" I asked. Anthorne looked up from the ground and glared at me.

 "I mean we live _here_. In these streets," he almost shouted.

 "Anthorne," Lilah said in a soft, scolding voice and placed a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her and his face softened. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Felicia had stepped close enough by now that she could hear everything said and if she spoke, she could be heard.

 "I'm sorry about this, Mr. Holmes. But it's about time that Anthorne and I leave," Lilah said.

 "AND JUST WHERE ARE WE GOING?" he yelled at her. I could feel my eyes narrow in anger. I hated to watch a woman yelled at or hit. But for some reason I didn't say anything.

  Lilah flinched but said, "We're going to the church to pray."

  That seemed to only make him angrier. He glared at her and screamed, "AND WHEN HAS GOD EVER ANWSERED OUR PRAYERS? NEVER I TELL YOU, NEVER!" 

 "YES HE HAS! Do you remember when Marie Thomas was ill and we prayed that she would recover? Well, the Lord sent a doctor to this part of town and he was kind enough to take care of her," she said. Anthorne glared but didn't say anything. He slowly turned and began to walk in the direction of the church. Lilah sighed and went after him.

 I was left standing there with Felicia. She looked at the ground. And I began to study her. She was short and scrawny. One could almost see her bones. Because of her thinness her eyes looked unusually large. She let her hair hang loose but it was so oily that it was rarely in her face. She wore a dress that look like it was once a bright red but now it had faded to a dully, almost pink color. She had soft, round features.

 She finally looked up at me and asked, "Who are you?"

 "My name is Sherlock Holmes. What is your name?" I asked.

 "Felicia Madison," she said.

 "May I ask why you're here?" I asked. She stared at the ground for a moment and then back at me.

 "My father died when I was about five years old and my mother couldn't find work and keep the house. We were forced into the streets and when I was ten years old a man named William Thatcher told us he had a place for us to live and find work and that we didn't have to pay for it.  My mother found a job and began to earn money. About a year ago, Mr. Thatcher began to demand that we pay a rent. Of course we couldn't refuse and my mother had to take another job to afford the rent and food and other things we needed. She soon became ill and died shortly after. I was told I had to find a job in two months; otherwise I would have to leave and go back into the streets. I couldn't find a job and was force to leave," she said.

 My eyes widened a little at hearing this. She could then possibly be the murderer. But I doubted it for a moment. She hadn't spoke neither with anger nor with bitterness. Only with sorrow but that didn't mean she didn't do it. But she didn't look the height of Anthorne, like Lilah said. But Lilah had been lying then about where she lived and why she was in the streets. Was she lying about the murder to and had I given her that money for no reason? I wondered. 

 "Why was Mr. and Miss Davis frightened to see you?" she asked.

 "I'm not sure," I answered. 

 "Then why did he say that?" she asked herself.

 "Say what?" I asked. She sighed and said, "Miss Davis is very religious as is Mr. Davis but he was never as religious as Miss Davis. But still, they both go to the church everyday to pray and read out of a bible there. So it surprised me to hear Mr. Davis say that the Lord never answers prayers. Now that I think of it, he's been acting rather strange lately. I suppose it's the fact that Miss Davis saw that awful murder or at least part of it."

 My eyes widened. So Lilah had seen the murder. She wasn't lying about that but was she lying about what happened there? I wondered again.

 "Did she tell you what happened at the murder?" I asked. She then looked worried and bit her lip. She nodded her head and said, "She had come running into the alley and ran to Mr. Davis who was talking with me about what I thought of a job offer he had gotten. He had just gotten there a few minutes ago himself. She was hysterical and she said, 'I just saw a man get murdered, Anthorne. What do I do? What do I do?' It took him a while to calm her but when he did she told him what happen. 'I was coming back from the church,' she said, 'and when I had turned I saw to shadows or shapes. It was so dark I couldn't see their faces. I think it was two men but I'm not sure. One raised his hand just as I got there and had something in it. I think it was a knife and he stabbed the other man with it. What am I supposed to do, Anthorne?' He told her there was nothing she could do for the time being and just to keep quiet about it. I don't know why I just told you that but I suppose there's a reason the Lord made me do it."

 So, Lilah Davis had told the truth about the murder and I hadn't given them the money for no reason. 

 "I see. Do you know when the Davis's will get back?" I asked.

 "No, I don't but I know where the church is if you want to talk to them," she said.

 "Will you take me there?" I asked. She nodded and turned around to begin leading me. I never knew how much that decision was going to change everything. 

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Please review.


	3. The angry

The Deceiving Bonds: A Memoir of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter Three

I was still following Felicia Madison to the church. It seemed to take hours to get there. I was growing impatient and had my chin upon my chest brooding over how long this was taking. I was also wondering what kind of church it was that this girl was taking me to. Felicia led me through a series of alleys and streets that seemed to lead to more streets and alleys. The streets were covered in trash and dirt. This was obviously the worst part of town to be in, especially for someone as well dressed as I. I wasn't rich, in fact I was far from it, but I was dress better than most of the people who we past in the streets. It was a miracle that I wasn't robbed.

But anyways, we got to the church and Lilah and Anthorne were in the pews kneeling behind one. As we got closer, I saw that Lilah's hands rested on the back of one of the pews and her forehead rested on her hands. Anthorne knelt next to her in the same position. There was one difference between the two. Lilah's lips moved without any sound while Anthorne's remained firmly shut.

I watched the two with Felicia who shifted around and moved her eyes around the building constantly. The church was small and dark. Candles and gaslights lit the room only enough to see figures and where things were and how to get there. There seemed to be a dusky substance over everything and the few people who were there appeared to have dirt on their skin. The floor and building was made of stone as was the alter. The pews were made of wood without any kind of padding. There was one window that was placed above the alter. It was a stained-glass window that depicted Christ on the cross.

I wonder vaguely how to make my presence know to them. I could remember a time when my mother brought me to church and how she would tell me not to interrupt someone when they pray, no matter the circumstances. So I remained silent as old memories slowly arose to my mind, memories I had forgotten when I left home.

I could remember my mother, father, and brother sitting next to me in one of the pews all staring wide eyed as a man screamed about fire and brimstone. Then the same standing on the front pew and climbing over it to the second one as I watched him, frighten of the reverend as only a five year old could be. Then I remembered another time when I was perhaps twelve and walking to a wooden alter, weeping with my mother at my side. Then praying for God's forgiveness while the reverend tried to encouraged others to come then led us all in a prolonged prayer.

I could remember watching my brother being baptized in a creek not far from were we lived, knowing that I would be next. I could remember how cold the water was and how I stared straight ahead, listening to the reverend voice, too afraid to look at those standing on the banks of the creek. Then the reverend dipped me back and my feet slipped out from under me and I grabbed his arm as he brought me back up.

Then I remembered coming to London and slowly leaving church all together and how my faith became almost non-existent.

Then I was brought out my reverie when Felicia when to one of the pews and sat down. I sat two pews behind her a saw a hymnal resting next to me. I picked it up and began to flip through it, in lack of something better to do. Yet my hands stopped when I reached one song, one that I had heard every Sunday of my childhood, one that my mother would softly sing when she thought no one was listening. I slowly began to read the words printed on the worn page.

"Just as I am without one plea

But that thy blood was shed for me

And that thou bidd'st me come to thee

O, Lamb of God, I come! I come!"

I shut the book as memories came rushing back and I was flooded with emotions. It was strange to feel such things and I immediately submerged the feelings under cold, precise reasoning. I couldn't let my judgment be clouded while dealing with the deceiving siblings who sat six pews ahead of me. I began to watch them again; unconscious of the hymnal that now rested upon on my lap.

Lilah's head rested in the same position. She seemed to be a statue, unmoving, unchanging, unreal. Trapped in a moment of time for the rest of eternity, she knelt, never to rise again. Her brother next to her knelt sculpture-like cold, callous, cool. He rested forbidding, a grim expression on his face, anger evident everywhere upon him. The cause of his anger, I was unsure of yet theories were there.

My thoughts were soon interrupted when the Davis's stood up from their knelt position. Felicia stood and rushed to Lilah. They stood talking and Felicia pointed toward me. Lilah's and Anthorne's eyes followed her finger as each set filled with a different emotion. Lilah looked at me with a mixture of fear and anxiety while Anthorne with anger that seemed to be part of his persona.

I looked on nonchalantly when they hurried over. I felt like an outsider in a new town who had disrupted the peaceful lives of the town's people as the three came closer.

"Mr. Holmes, what are you doing here?" Lilah asked the moment she was within hearing range. Her face was flushed and eyes wild. Her brother glared with stony silence and Felicia stared nervously.

I stood slowly, standing to my full height and said somewhat cheerfully, "I was hoping you could tell me the truth about Mr. William Thatcher."

She stared at me in dismay and turned to Felicia.

"What did you tell him?" she asked, her voice shaken. She was a very emotional woman and allowed whatever emotion she felt to control her. As she spoke, I began to suspect this yet I hadn't yet realized just how deeply she could feel.

"I only told him about that night. And how Mr. Thatcher was our landlord. But I swear that was it, Miss Davis, I swear," Felicia told her as if her life depended on Lilah's opinion of her. Lilah stared at her as distraught and Felicia looked at her pleadingly, as though begging Lilah for her forgiveness.

"Then you know the truth, Mr. Holmes," Anthorne said, coldly, surprising both Lilah and Felicia.

"Do I?" I asked, confidence filling my voice. I knew I had the upper hand yet I shouldn't have let it enter my voice for Lilah hated to be the underdog.

"Shouldn't you know, Mr. Holmes? You are the 'world's greatest detective' after all," she said, sarcasm filling her voice. The woman had riled my anger and I responded quickly.

"Why, Miss Davis, I had thought that lying was a sin and had hoped you would be willing to tell the truth this time," I said, recklessly. I shouldn't have been so careless yet there was something about Lilah that made me behave strangely. But, alas, I was to be punished for my recklessness this time.

Lilah's face grew red and she slapped me as hard as she could. My head turned to the side slightly from the force of her hit and I boiled with anger.

"Miss Davis!" Felicia exclaimed, horrified that this respected woman would do such a thing while Anthorne grinned slightly. The few people in the church turned to stare at the spectacle we made, except for the faithful who continued their prayers.

"You have no right to say such things to me! You knew nothing of the circumstances or people involved with it. Don't you dare judge me when you know nothing," she raved, almost screamed.

"I know, Miss Davis, that you lied to me. Your whole story is full of falsehoods and I now want the truth of the matter," I said, calmly, coldly, just as I would anyone else I suspected.

"Felicia wouldn't lie to you, Mr. Holmes," Lilah said, glaring darkly at me

"Yet she can't tell me the beginning," I said. Lilah sighed and stared at the ground. Anthorne stared at her bent head for a moment and then turned me.

"Mr. Holmes, my sister's been through enough. She does not need this inquisition at the moment," he said and reached to put his hand on his sister's arm and drag her out of the church. Yet she resisted.

"No, Anthorne. I'll tell him. Perhaps, afterward, he'll leave us alone. And now Mr. Holmes," she said turning to me, "I hope you have in mind a place for us to talk for I refuse to do so here."

"My home will do, if you don't mind the walk. I want my friend, Watson, there when you tell me you tale. And of course, Miss Madison, will accompany us," I said. Lilah nodded her consent as did the others and we walked out of the church as the whispering began.

The walk back to Baker Street was silent. I was too indifferent to start conversation, Lilah too angry, Felicia too nervous, and Anthorne too amused with himself to share his enjoyable thoughts. I suppose we made an odd sight. Three homeless walking with a well to do man yet all processing the same dignity and all seeming as though we had goldmines in our cellars.

We reached Baker Street and soon entered my establishment. I left my visitors in the setting area and went to wake Watson who had gone to bed an hour before. He dressed quickly and together we went to tend to our guests and listen to the truth, finally.

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this out. But I've come across writer's block, losing part of this chapter after typing it, and school craziness. But I'm going to try and get back on this. So please review. Ideas and encouragement are always welcome.

Pinkmoon.


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